Preludes by Pendraegona
Chapter Notes: Disclaimer: If I were J.K., this wouldn't be fanfiction. It would just be fiction.
Thanks to my fantastic betas, CakeorDeath and bluemoon 13, for all their patience and help, and also to my one reviewer, who made Chapter Three worth trying to write. And also to french vanilla cappucinos, to which I owe my sanity.
III. You tossed a blanket from the bed,
You lay upon your back, and waited;
You dozed, and watched the night revealing
The thousand sordid images
Of which your soul was constituted;
They flickered against the ceiling.
And when all the world came back
And the light crept up between the shutters
And you heard the sparrows in the gutters
You had such a vision of the street
As the street hardly understands;
Sitting along the bed’s edge, where
You curled the papers from your hair,
Or clasped the yellow soles of feet
In the palms of both soiled hands.
Chapter III. “The Night Revealing”
The light was the colour of heat.
It was the neon streetlamps glowing into the semi-darkness before the dawn that turned the walls a hazy orange colour. He lay in bed and closed his eyes, trying to force himself into the realm of dreams. It was too hot for June, so very, very hot…
His breath caught in his throat. Blood was burning in his veins, but he was paralyzed with fear. Then he did the first thing that struck him: he ran. It was the wrong thing to do.
The wolf was on him in an instant. The fangs and claws pierced his skin again and again, ripping him with the ease of shredding paper; he was powerless to help himself. The heat was pressing in on him from all sides, the creature’s fiery breath against his flesh, the white-hot pain consuming his body”and his own blood staining the earth, glowing orange in the light of the full moon…
Only then did he remember to scream.
Remus shifted to one side and kicked off the quilt.
It was much too hot to sleep. It was much too hot not to sleep.
“How come you didn’t tell us?” Sirius demanded.
Remus’ worst fears were confirmed: somehow, James and Sirius had found out about his lycanthropy. All he could think was “Oh no, oh no”they must hate me now, and I’ve lost the closest thing I ever had to friends”“ and then he did the first thing that struck him: he ran.
He made it back to the doorway of the dormitory before they caught up with him. James caught him by the shoulder; he yelped in pain and turned fast, and his robes, loose from running, slipped over his right shoulder, revealing the long, deep marks his own claws had made in his skin. There was a horrible silence in which Remus waited for the anger and accusations without finding the courage to look James or Sirius in the face. When he finally dared to look up, impossible, hot tears were gathering in the eyes of both. They weren’t scared of him. They were scared for him.
They would do anything to help him.
It was then he realized that they really were friends”the best friends anyone could ask for”
Remus rolled onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He could feel the perspiration emanating from his body, as if the heat came from within him, from his boiling blood or pounding heart, and wondered again…wondered if it was all his fault, forever…
“I think you’d better sit down,” Professor McGonagall suggested. Her voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “This may come as a bit of a shock.”
“What’s happened?” Remus said, standing more rigidly than ever.
She gave me a pitying look, and said quietly, “They’re dead, Remus. James and Lily Potter are dead.” He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think, his mind was burning with the horrible words…James and Lily Potter, dead…he fought the urge to run by forcing himself down into the offered chair.
“But Sirius”Sirius”“ he stumbled over his own words, not knowing what he was going to say. Sirius what, Remus? He couldn’t have what?
“The Ministry got to him, but your friend Peter got there first…and…it was nasty. Black killed Pettigrew, and thirteen Muggles in the process. He’s going to Azkaban for life…without a trial.”
Gone. Three best friends felled in one stroke. “No,” Remus whispered, his voice barely audible. “I thought”I thought I knew Sirius Black.” He felt the tears burn his eyes, and thought of James”James and Lily Potter, and poor little Peter”and Sirius, who had betrayed them all. “I guess I was wrong.”
Sometimes Remus wished he was normal, like other people. Normal, as in…not a werewolf. Normal, as in…not having to change his way of life every few months. Normal, as in…not having his friends killed or lost, one by one. Normal, as in…someone else.
“But then…” Remus muttered, staring at Sirius so intently it seemed he was trying to read his mind, “…why hasn’t he shown himself before now? Unless””Remus’ eyes suddenly widened, as though he was seeing something beyond Sirius, something none of the rest could see, “”unless he was the one…unless you switched…without telling me?”
Very slowly, his sunken gaze never leaving Remus’ face, Sirius nodded.*
Was he living one life, or a thousand little, different lives? How utterly surreal it all was!
Ten nights past he had been in Bur Sceadugenga fighting for his life. Eight nights past, he had stood guard duty under Moody’s invisibility cloak outside the Department of Mysteries.
Two weeks ago Molly Weasley had cooked a feast in the kitchen of Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place, after the Order meeting, and he had dined with the bravest and best people he knew. Last evening, he had watched the younger werewolves devour a couple of raw chickens Aidan had snitched from a farm near Whitehaven.
A week ago, Sirius had still been alive.
Remus saw Sirius duck Bellatrix’s jet of red light: He was laughing at her. “Come on, you can do better than that!” he yelled, his voice echoing around the cavernous room.
The second jet of light hit him squarely on the chest.
The laughter had not quite died from his face, but his eyes widened in shock.
It seemed to take Sirius an age to fall. His body curved in a graceful arc as he sank backward through the ragged veil hanging from the arch…
**
Remus closed his eyes tightly, both willing himself to wake up from the nightmare or doze off to escape it. He could still see the strange orange light through his eyelids. It was so hot, so very hot”
“SIRIUS!” Harry yelled. “SIRIUS!”
Remus seized Harry about the chest, holding him back. “There’s nothing you can do, Harry”“
“Get him, save him, he’s only just gone through!”
“It’s too late, Harry”“
“We can still reach him”“
Harry struggled hard and viciously, but Remus would not let go…
“There’s nothing you can do, Harry…nothing...He’s gone.”**
It was his fault, of course. It was always his fault.
It wasn’t right for Dumbledore”Dumbledore, of all people”to assume the blame for Sirius’ death, and then chide Remus for doing the same. If Remus' own resolve hadn’t failed…if he hadn’t been careless…then why did he feel so guilty?
He had been a danger to the people he loved”the few, precious people who loved him! They were dead, dead because of him. He deserved to be alone. He deserved to be in this hole with monsters like him. He deserved no one’s love.
He couldn’t lie still: he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and buried his face in his hands. In his mind, he could see a vision of the street outside, and himself walking slowly down it, alone, looking at no one. He saw himself growing bitter, quitting his job and slipping into their lifestyle of stealing, slowly losing his humanity. He saw the older werewolves turn away from him, as they turned away from each other, because he was no different.
Then he remembered Dumbledore, and his grave, compassionate face, and twinkling blue eyes, and the vision of his other self, the monster, faded away...
The morning was fast approaching, the flighty sun peeking into run-down streets with fleeting, golden timidity. A few twittering birds had begun their early morning rounds of the rooftops. He would be opening the book-shop in downtown Wolverhampton in two hours, and he had not slept at all.
*Rowling, J.K. "Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban." Scholastic. New York, 1999. page 344.
**Rowling, J.K. "Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix." Scholastic. New York, 2003. pages 805-806.